London's Hammer Corps
We finished our match against Valencia, returned to Madrid, and boarded a plane—this time bound for England.
I could hardly believe half the filming schedule was already behind us, yet back in Korea our footage kept airing without pause.
We flew into London City Airport, nestled on the eastern side of the city.
"When you think of London, which teams come to mind?"
On the bus to our lodging, MC Go Yunseong put the question to the kids.
"Tottenham!"
"There's Arsenal too… and Chelsea."
London, capital of England, was home to no shortage of clubs. The most famous among them were the city's big three: the red of Arsenal, the white of Tottenham, and the blue of Chelsea. All three belonged to the so-called Big Six of English football, locked in perpetual competition for silverware.
But they weren't our next opponents.
"Anyone besides those three?"
"West Ham."
"No way…"
"That's right. Our next opponents are West Ham."
West Ham United. Locally they ranked second only to Arsenal in popularity, boasting a fan base fierce enough to outsell Chelsea and Tottenham on ticket numbers. Their home ground, London Stadium, sat on the eastern side of the city, just north of the Thames that cut through the capital.
West Ham United had a history that ran deep. The club had been founded by ironworks employees who built the bridges spanning the Thames—originally known as Thames Ironworks FC. They'd operated as an amateur works side before changing their name to West Ham United in the early 1900s and turning professional.
Their rivalries connected them to the other London clubs, but the most dangerous derby of all was the one with Millwall—the so-called Dockers Derby. Millwall, like West Ham, had been founded by ironworks employees, and with the two clubs sitting on opposite banks of the Thames, a derby had formed as naturally as the river itself.
At any rate, our next opponents were West Ham United of London.
London Stadium wasn't far from the airport, so we'd booked lodgings somewhere in between.
"Huh? Why are you out already?"
One of the staff members, busy packing gear to film London Stadium ahead of schedule, asked me.
"I figured I'd take a look myself. Not like there's anything to do sitting around the hotel…"
"Hmm… fair enough. Might as well go ahead and get a feel for the place."
I headed to London Stadium with the staff. The scenes being shot were introductory footage covering West Ham United and the stadium itself—no cast members needed—so I made sure to stay out of frame.
West Ham United's home ground held its own against any other club's venue. Within England it ranked as the third-largest stadium after Manchester United and Tottenham Hotspur, recently expanded to hold roughly sixty-eight thousand spectators.
"Impressive, right? Not quite Atlético Madrid or Ajax, but it's pretty big."
"…The running track makes it feel even bigger."
As a former Olympic venue, London Stadium still had its red athletics track laid out around the pitch. And to give fans a better view of the players, the stadium felt a touch more spacious than most.
The staff spent about two hours filming—cameras in hand, drones in the air. In the meantime, I wandered the interior of London Stadium.
West Ham United had one real shortcoming: no museum to showcase their history. Chelsea, the club I supported, had a museum displaying the kits and boots of past legends, complete with their signatures. West Ham, by contrast, had only a handful of modest temporary exhibits.
Among them, the rarest and most meaningful piece was a jersey signed by an England legend—Bobby Moore.
"Whoa…"
Bobby Moore had been one of three West Ham players on the only England side ever to win the World Cup. The other two were Geoff Hurst and Martin Peters. Geoff Hurst had scored a hat-trick against West Germany in the World Cup final—the first player ever to do so on that stage. For the record, only two players in history had scored a World Cup final hat-trick: him and Kylian Mbappé.
"Damn…"
I was deep in my sightseeing when someone tapped me on the shoulder.
"H… Hi…?"
I turned. A woman stood there—a white woman with the reddish hair people commonly called ginger, her locks falling loose around her shoulders.
"Could I get your Stargram… ID, by any chance?"
"Ah… sorry. I don't have a Stargram account…"
I was fluent enough in English to answer without trouble. The woman let out an Ah… of disappointment, then covered her flushed face with both hands and bolted off somewhere.
I watched her go and thought: I should make a Stargram account.
"…So that's why you came to me?"
"Yes. I asked the guys and they told me to go to you, noona…"
After eating the dinner provided by the hotel, we sat in the lobby talking. Eunhye was dressed casually—a pure white tee under a gray zip-up hoodie, black track pants.
"I do have the most followers, sure… Did you at least make an account already?"
"Yes. The guys helped me set it up."
I held out my phone with Stargram open for her to see.
"…No photos, no posts, nothing? Don't you have any pictures? Like a photo of your face, for example."
"I have the ID photo they took for my student card at school…"
"You're going to post that on Stargram? Are you insane?"
…The ID photo wasn't that bad.
"The one thing you absolutely never use as a profile picture is an ID photo. Money pics and car pics are out too… and soccer player or anime profile pics are also a no."
"Ah…"
I'd seen that before. Different app, but I'd come across posts about the classic nerd profile-pic hallmarks.
"Just take whatever photos you want and upload them. But show them to me for approval before you post."
"Okay…"
Eunhye, who'd been sitting across from me, stood up and moved to the seat beside mine. Then she pulled out her own phone, opened the camera app, and leaned in close.
"…What are you doing?"
"You've got so many fans looking for you. I should introduce you properly. Come on, strike a pose."
I mirrored the V-sign she made with her right hand, and we took a photo together.
"This one's a little blurry… this one's awkward, skip…"
From dozens of shots she picked the three best and posted them. Then a notification lit up on my phone.
I tapped the notifications and found myself tagged in the photos she'd uploaded. And somehow—whether she'd done it herself—we were already mutual follows on Stargram.
"See? Hearts and comments already pouring in."
She opened the comments for me. Even though the post was barely minutes old, a handful of replies had already appeared. The numbers stacked higher with every refresh, and my Stargram follower count started climbing right along with them.
And among them, one name stood out above the rest…
…Somehow Torres had found and followed my Stargram.
It was an honor for the whole family, sure—but I could already tell this was going to cause a stir, so I closed my phone.
Time flowed on, and before long the match day against West Ham United's U-19 side arrived.
The production team no longer bothered hiding who we'd be facing next. After the Ajax match aired, viewers had showered us with even more attention, and the ratings had climbed vertically. Riding the wave, they'd decided to go public with the upcoming schedule. Still, to account for variables, they only announced the fixtures that were locked in—meaning today's match against West Ham United U-19.
Only three teams left anyway.
My Stargram follower count had ballooned after the Ajax episode aired. I was already closing in on a hundred thousand followers. Of course, I figured having Eunhye and her million-plus following had a lot to do with how fast it grew.
I checked the DMs from fans one by one as I slowly prepared to take the field.
…Come to think of it, that guy should be here too.
The man once called the successor to Declan Rice—future England national team and West Ham defensive midfielder. Daniel James would be on West Ham United's U-19 side.
I remembered him for the same reason everyone else did: his performances had been nothing short of spectacular. His defensive ability was peerless, and the counterattacks that sprang from him were razor-sharp. On top of that, he was a defensive midfielder who preferred to play on the right side—which meant he and I, a left winger, would be set on a collision course.
Wouldn't hurt to go up against him early, right?
Once I made it onto the European stage, I'd be running into him often enough.